


Maple Syrup

by Bookdragon6660



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 5-4-3-2-1 anxiety methood, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Logic | Logan Sanders, Protective Morality | Patton Sanders, Thomas Sanders References, feat; virgil's fidit cube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23445205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookdragon6660/pseuds/Bookdragon6660
Summary: Virgil had not been having the best of days in the mind palace as of late.
Relationships: Platonic Analogical, Platonic Moxiety - Relationship
Kudos: 81





	Maple Syrup

The alarm on his phone shrieked right next to his ear. He flinched, groaned and winced in anguished pain as he was too tired to move the electronic device causing him such distress he simply lay there with his dark circled eyes as the noise became unbearable. 

It was then that a sharp pounding followed by an annoyed shout from roman at his bedroom door in the mind palace. Virgil quickly shut off his phone and went to answer the door with a slightly frantic apology. He was met with nothing at his door, but the smell of pancakes on the griddle was just enticing enough to scrape him out of his slumber lodgings. 

“What took you so long? I was just convincing Logan to start without you!” Roman teased a little too harshly, he would apologize, but not now. Logan looked up from his coffee cup with a disapproving eyebrow raise that caused this sudden change of heart on the creative side’s part. 

“You are doing alright though, arent you Virgil?” logan inquired, tone softening as he finished setting the table. 

Virgil gave a curt nod and stared at his own empty plate while roman did the same while giving a scantly heard apology under his breath. 

“Eat up kiddos! I made extra.” Patton cheered as he entered the room. “Just felt like the right thing to do on a day like today.” He continued to chirp.   
Virgil gave a quick thank you nod to Patton before drowning his breakfast in maple syrup, enough to probably last on the inside of his tongue throughout the day. 

Roman spent the meal humming the entire anthology to a play he most likely made himself that was a daydream of Thomas's as he tried to write. 

This usually wasn't a problem but today it seemed in the mix of everything he had apparently forgotten his headphones that he wore during days, moments and situations like this one to help soothe him. Everything felt like glass now against his sensitive and fragile temple and eardrums were being bombarded by the unwanted stimulus that made him want to scream if he really couldn't see a way to make roman stop making noise altogether. 

He began, unconsciously to curl up onto himself at a loss for any other solution. Logan was about to see what could be done about the matter before he noticed the black fidget cube the neurotic side always had with him and went to go return it to its rightful owner. 

Vigil hated how the others walked on shattered eggshells for him when he was like this, he felt entitled and manipulative at every kind gesture. He chewed his food with a painfully slow intensity until a little plop of something light and semi-round was placed in front of him. 

"I believe you dropped this sometime yesterday, I thought it was best to return it to its owner.” Logan deadpanned. 

He took it gratefully and immediately began to meddle with it, sighing at the slight relief it brought him before speaking up again,   
“Thanks, man, what are you up to today?” 

“You are most welcome, I have some scheduling and other such responsibilities to do for the mind palace today,” Logan replied with a small smile before going to fulfill his tasks for the day. 

Roman placed his dishes in the sink and dramatically announced that the creative process had struck him and he was off to go create magic. 

Virgil flinched and growled under his breath, finally being able to escape to the dark corner of the mind palace that was his room. Back in his bed under the cover, phone 5-inches from his face, eyeliner beginning to burn his eyes(why didn’t he wash it off?) he had come to the conclusion that everything sucked and he wanted to die. 

He shut off his phone with a bored, borderline depressed expression on his face. Then the thinking began. His throat and chest swelled with gloom and panic. Everything felt like it was coming to an end. His chest ached and tears streaked down his face into his ears from the angle he was lying down in. Their cold malevolence burned with their presence. He didn’t know if Patton had heard him or if super-secret dad powers alerted him to the knowledge to know when one of his children is in peril. Never the less there was a small gentle knock at the door followed by a very soft yet concerned “Kiddo?” 

Virgil could only whimper as the attack continued. 

“Okay, Okay.” Patton soothed. He sat in his bed and gently held his hand. Virgil gripped it with white knuckles, Patton gave him a tight reassuring smile. Nevermind the spiders his son needed him.

“Shhh, can you name five things for me?” Patton settled. subtly scraping one of the creepy crawling death dealers off his leg with a barely noticeable wince.

“Ceiling, face, hair bedpost, sheets.” Virgil gasped. 

“Good, Four things you can touch” He continued to soothe. 

“Hand, hoodie, blanket, and phone.” He went on. 

“Three things you can hear”. 

“Vent, voice, and me talking, obviously, sorry” Virgil began again. 

“No, you're doing wonderful kiddo I'm so proud of you. Can you give me two things that you can smell?” Patton tried to pacify. 

“The pancakes you made for breakfast and me, I need to shower.” Virgil huffed, A little ashamed of himself. 

“You can later kiddo, its okay but I still highly suggest it,” Patton replied. 

“And one thing you can taste.” he continued. 

“Maple Syrup” Virgil sighed, getting up to go bathe. 

He left his room with a pat on the back from the father figure figment and a towel. When he got out his bed was made and Virgil's laundry was warm, dry and lemon-scented. Thre was a small heart sticky note on it alerting him of lunch’s arrival should he choose to partake in it.


End file.
